I’d watch the cane field, towering over my body, be set ablaze by a fire that expanded until it scorched the crop down to dust and ash. Black clouds billowed overhead and the significant smell of gas and diesel was a reaffirming scent signaling the oncoming of a new season, and therefore, a new harvest.
This scorching, this cyclical blaze of destruction that aids rebirth has stayed with me throughout my life and is what influences my paintings. My first moves are made with diligent attention; however, I never forget that the cycle has only just begun. This stage must be buried with oil and flooded with turpentine. The canvas is then built back up with mounds of charcoal and relief ink only to then be slashed and scraped away for a new fertile figure-ground to emerge.
My process is one that builds up a surface, agitates its foundation, and forges a composition that releases landscapes of growth and regeneration.